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From High To Low in 30 Seconds Flat

by MacCupcake on 31 July, 2018

Things have been swinging back and forth for the last couple of weeks. I try to get up and do some work on packing and sorting and storage etc. For added incentive, I watched eight seasons of “Hoarder” which has be motivated beyond belief. Not that my house is a ‘hoard’ but that there are a lot of things that have to be moved.

Today, I had a phone interview. Talked with the HR woman for like 45 minutes, went through the job requirements etc., my job history, the company environment, everything. I hung up the phone excited and happy that not only does this possible job represent everything I believe in and have the experience to do, but their salary dollars are in my price range.

For some odd reason, my ‘husband’ was in the kitchen over hearing all of this. I thought he’d be happy, because this possibility represents what he thinks of as his “duty” to make sure I was “okay” (whatever the hell that is supposed to mean) before he left for his retirement in Arizona.

He asked me where it was, and frankly I knew the general area in the ‘greater Kansas City area’, but I flipped to the company website and on the homepage was this map:

I replied: “I’m not sure exactly but it is directly across the road from “Johnson County Funeral Chapel.”

He looked at me and in a voice that had zero emotion, replied: “Hey, that’s the place I went to pick up Streeter’s ashes. I know where that is.”

Forget that he is talking about my only son’s death and ashes no differently than if I was saying a golf course or shopping mall. Forget that it has only been four months since I found him dead in his room; I was just on a high about a real opportunity that I was excited about and very qualified after spending the past 18 or 20 months out of work; it would mean that I was offered and I accepted, I would spend every day across the fucking street from where my baby was cremated. And I hit rock bottom. In an instant, I went from feeling like I was standing on the tallest building and the next I hit the pavement. I was at rock bottom.

And that never occurred to him. To say such a thing without emotion or any empathy or thought beforehand. And I felt like I lost Streeter all over again. And he still didn’t get it. When I finally came back out of my bedroom (another two hour crying jag), he mumbles something under his breath that was supposed to be an apology. I don’t think he even got it then!

Thankfully, it wasn’t the funeral home. I wouldn’t have been able to drive to work every day knowing it was across the street. Am I making too much of this? Was it really such a big deal?